


Denatured

by schizoauthoress



Category: Galaxy Quest (1999)
Genre: Gen, In a manner of speaking, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Transporter Malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28561821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schizoauthoress/pseuds/schizoauthoress
Summary: The Thermians were expecting to beam up five humans and one Mak'Tar... and that's how they set the transporter.  Alexander isn't sure he can cope with the results.
Kudos: 1





	Denatured

He doesn't realize right away that he's been changed. So much is happening all at once -- Alexander doesn't spare thought for his body beyond 'I'm still in one piece'.

Advanced alien life is real, interstellar space travel is real, and these revelations take all his attention. Also, the fact that these aliens believe he and his castmates truly are the space-faring characters of the N.S.E.A. Protector is a continuing problem and challenge. Alexander is kept busy.

The foam rubber prosthetic he wears when acting as Dr. Lazarus has always gotten uncomfortably hot after extended wear. (His pride won't let him admit it, but the physical discomfort is a contributing factor to how sour he gets during long convention appearances.) This time, despite all the action and discomfort of an actual mission aboard a real starship, it does not make him itch or sweat as usual.

Alexander doesn't notice.

It's not until he tries to remove it -- during a moment of privacy in his quarters, in the ridiculously complex bathroom the Thermians think he requires -- that Alexander begins to even suspect something is different. There is no seam. With dawning horror, Alexander finally becomes aware that was he'd assumed was merely his usual costuming is no such thing.

The crests on his head are not sculpted foam rubber, but cartilaginous and covered in smooth skin. The tiny embellishments at the nape of his neck are no longer stiff, but soft, and they move in response to his touch.

Oh, God. He can feel his fingers running over the crests. He can feel the movement of those tiny, tentacle-like protrusions, and at the same time, he feels the difference between the smoothness of his nails and the rougher, softer flesh of his fingertips from the touch of protrusions themselves.

Alexander feels his stomach churn, but grits his teeth against the urge to vomit. He doesn't even remember if the Mak'Tar can...

****

"What have they done to me? I'm... I'm an amphibian freak!" Alexander weeps, halfway into Gwen's lap. He's gone through rage, completely skipped denial. The fluttering tentacles and slowly moving gill structures on his head -- along with the pain that resulted when he dug his nails into the skin of his forehead looking for the nonexistent edge of the prosthetic -- have made that impossible. So he's sunk in grief. 

Both he and Gwen ignore the odd, alien thickness of his tears. She strokes a gentle hand along his back, attempting to soothe. He's grateful that she hasn't touched his head.

"It must have been the transporter," Gwen says, "The Thermians think you are an alien. They anticipated beaming up one Mak'Tar along with the rest of us."

Alexander already suspected this, but hearing Gwen say it so calm and matter of fact does help settle his nerves somehow. He sniffles, coughs. "If they beam me down as a human, maybe that will fix it."

"It probably will fix things," Gwen replies reassuringly. She pats Alexander on the back. Now that he's no longer crying, he feels a bit self conscious and sits up, scrubbing at his face with the heels of his hands. Gwen smiles at him. "You'll be okay, Alexander. We'll explain it to Mathesar."

Alexander isn't so sure he can be optimistic about the chances of Mathesar understanding that he's not -- or at least doesn't want to be -- Mak'Tar. After all, Mathesar's people believe that 'Galaxy Quest' is a historical record. As they understand it, Alexander is Dr. Lazarus and has always been Mak'Tar. But there is hope that this transformation is only temporary, and that will have to suffice for now.

****

The others don't know about the change yet. Alexander swore Gwen to secrecy.

They have been each others' confidant over the years; he knows she will keep the trust. No one else has the time or inclination to notice if he feels uncomfortable in his skin, anyway. The danger of the situation steals attention even better than Jason in full egomaniac mode.

So Alexander stays silent about his troubles, also turning all his attention to survival.

General Sarris wants to exterminate the Thermians and has no qualms at all about killing humans who get in the way. Alexander is sure that he will find no mercy from Sarris as a Mak'Tar either. 

Besides, Alexander has his pride to think of. If he begged for his life, surely he'd be the only one on the ship to do so -- unless Guy was feeling particular anxious or cowardly at the time.

'I will not be lumped in with such an _a'vak id_ \--'

"Doctor Lazarus, are you all right?" Quellek asks, solicitous as always. "You have lost much of your color."

Alexander takes a breath, and replies quickly, "I'm fine, Quellek. Don't trouble yourself."

The young man doesn't look convinced, but he nonetheless nods and turns back to his workstation.

'I'm thinking in Mak'Ta'Ri,' Alexander realizes, with mingled fear and anger. 'Why am I thinking in Mak'Ta'Ri?'

He takes a deep breath, and tries to think it through logically. Although Alexander finds many of the ridiculous trappings of his role to be tiresome, he's always loved wordplay and language. The first seeds of the constructed language had been a collaboration between Alexander and his favorite show writer, Vince Silver. It might be nothing more than a subconscious association -- he spent years with the language coming up in scripts, paired with surroundings similar to his current location. 

Slipping into Mak'Ta'Ri didn't mean anything. It didn't have to mean anything.

"I'm human," Alexander breathes, for he does not dare say it louder.

Behind his back, unseen, Quellek frowns.

*-*-*-*-*


End file.
